


Ballard of The Albion.

by lucystormborn



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin - Fandom
Genre: AU, Cute little Perwaine bar flirting, F/F, F/M, Long, M/M, Memory Loss, Modern AU, Reincarnation, Some cute nonesense honestly, destiny is a shithead, slow burn to end all slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucystormborn/pseuds/lucystormborn
Summary: How many years had he waited for this moment, how many lifetimes had he lived to get back to this."What's his name? Does he know"It had to be him, it had to be. People don't just forget who they are, just like that. This was destiny, this was fate."Arthur" she said "he says it's Arthur"Everything was different after she said his name. He wasn't a ghost anymore. He laughed at Mordred's words echoing in his head."It isn't him" he'd said. Well he was wrong.Arthur was alive. He was here and nothing else mattered





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm dyslexic and dyspraxic so if any of you see a mistake, don't hesitate to point it out. You won't offend me, I know I can't spell. 
> 
> Anyway this is going to be a long one, hope you guys enjoy it, I would say stick with it for a chapter, the reincarnation thing grows on you

He wasn't always alone. Not always. Every now and then he came upon a familiar face. He'd meet Morgana charming her way through the Tudor court or Percival smithing for the Jacobite army. Once it was Gwaine; an opium addict and playwright, another time, Leon a brave and brutal soldier in the First World War. Eventually they pretty much all turned up. Mordred of course had kept his distance, and if he'd ever come back he'd made a point of keeping out of Merlin's way. But no matter how much time passed, the others were never far away.

At first Merlin had thought it was a coincidence, that these strangers simply looked like his friends. After all he'd watched Percival die, Gwen and Leon too. Age had taken them all eventually. There was nothing in any of the legends that could explain why all of his friends would turn up at different times in wildly different places. For the most part they didn't seem to remember any past life, they went by different names, had different professions and showed no signs of recognition when they looked at him. But Merlin knew it was them all the same, he felt it... or perhaps he only wanted to.

It was a comfort to see them in some ways, it helped him to remember who he was, and who he needed to be when the time came. He knew that these were just parodies of his friends, that none of them were really themselves; more to the point, none of them were Arthur.

  
Merlin had no idea what force had pushed them all together this time around. Call it fate or dumb luck, but somehow he'd ended up stumbling upon three of his old friends all at once. Gwaine it seems was enigmatic as ever. From what little Merlin could force Gwaine to tell him, he was the picture of a standard, middle-class, Irishman. For some curious reason (which try though he might Merlin had never really been able to understand.) instead of cutting all his hair of and joining a cult, he'd fulfilled his midlife crisis by buying a bar. A bar which Merlin had stumbled into one night completely by chance. Now Gwaine (he called himself Scott this time around) wasn't the only one who Merlin was glad to see in the bar that first night. In one corner, surrounded by a group of oddly dressed strangers, was Lancelot and leaning on the bar, laughing at one of Gwaine's jokes was Percival.

He had never encountered more than one of them in any one decade, let alone three of them together at once. It felt significant somehow, seeing them all together like that. It felt as though some kind of ending was being set in motion, that whatever he'd waited all these years for would finally make itself known.

The truth was that Merlin would have to wait many a few more years before anything really significant would happen, but he spent them happily and in good company. Scott's bar (ironically named The Albion) became a second home almost immediately and for the first time in a long time he felt he was really a part of the world.

He liked Scott almost as much as he'd liked Gwaine, he laughed a little too loud and always sang the worst songs on karaoke night but he was mostly ok. Percival, who went by Miles, was as strong and silent as ever and unlike Scott provided crisp and simple explanations for everything he did. Oddly, his strength and sheer size had mostly gone to waste in this life. He was a writer and much to Merlin's surprise, a fairly good one at that. Gwaine adored him of course. Well, some things never change.

The only one who remained a stranger to him after that night was Lancelot. Gwaine knew enough to tell Merlin that his name was Francis and that trouble followed him wherever he went, but on the few nights Francis turned up at the bar, he was always surrounded by his group of thugs and Merlin had no interest in finding out how much he really could endure before he died.

After centuries alone waiting for Arthur, walking aimlessly in an ever evolving world, Merlin knew the pain of grief better than anyone. Somehow that pain didn't feel so sharp with his friends by his side. Even if they didn't know how quite much they meant to him.


	2. The world on its knees

In his long life Merlin had picked up plenty of Hobbies. He never lost his love of botany, and never stopped studying new spells and ways of understanding magic. Modern Medicine was a bit too clinical for him, but he dabbled in that too from time to time. These days though, his interest was mostly caught up in pagan rituals and Druidic culture. He taught a class at the local university. 

Most of his days were spent bent over a book in some dusty library or archive, reading the books everyone else had neglected as the ravings of mad men. Mostly he ended his days with a drink and a catch up in The Albion. Gwaine and Percival- Scott and Miles, he reminded himself, were the only friends he really had. The only real friends he'd had in some time. On this one night, he made his way to the Albion like he usually did, though a little more in need of a drink. He'd spent several fruitless hours of searching the old legends for some mention of the rebirth of the knights, a topic that consumed most of his days lately.

"Well good morning Merlin." Gwaine was in his usual spot, mumbling in hushed tones to Percival in between serving drinks. He'd always been fashion forward, today he wore some kind of green moth eaten coat and a shirt that looked remarkably like it was made from a curtain and still somehow managed to suit him. There was something slightly agitated about the way he was tapping a pencil against his teeth and rolling his eyes at every customer. Percival was scratching little sentences into a notebook as he laughed at a joke Merlin couldn't hear.   
"It's not even half past ten." Percival muttered and turned around in his stool to face Merlin. "Long night?" He asked at the look on the face of his companion.  
"The longest," Merlin agreed and gesturing to to Gwaine, he added "seems I'm not the only one."  
"Oh you know what he's like," he lowered his voice and added "He's pissed because his brother is in town."  
"Brother? I didn't know Scott had a-"  
"He's my step brother actually" Gwaine cut in slamming a glass down with such force it made them both jump. "He's a little shit."  
"Runs in the family" was Percival's muted response.  
"Good one. Except we're not blood related. So that doesn't make sense does it"

Merlin couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt wrong about this. Gwaine and Percival bickered all of the time, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. So why did he feel like someone had turned him inside out and shoved him in a bucket of ice? He sat there as Percival and Gwaine argued, trying to figure out what it was that had him shaken so much. It was just a feeling, nothing tangible but his feelings had never been wrong before.

"Where do you want these then Scott? Contrary to popular belief I'm not a mind reader so you're going to have to-" Merlin looked up from the point on the floor he'd been focusing on. He recognized that voice. Oh God, he recognized it and feared it more than anything. He looked up to see Mordred, just as he knew he would. He was completely out of place in a leather jacket three sizes too big for him and a pair of skinny jeans that didn't fit quite right. Mordred was staring straight at him, eyes wide with something he'd not seen in so long that he couldn't quite place it. Gwain seemed to notice and took the crate of beer from Mordred's hands.  
"This is Merlin." He said after a moment of awkward silence glancing at Percival to see if he understood any of what was going on. "He's our friend. He's a researcher. Merlin, this is Jaime. My broth- my step brother."

Mordred-Jaime seemed to recover a little at that, enough to bleat out a "Nice to meet you," though he didn't sound convinced that it was. He opened his mouth to say something else, then glancing at Percival and Gwaine closed it again and left the way that he had come without saying another word.  
"No offence Scott but your brother is mad" Percival muttered. It seemed an understatement given the circumstances.  
"Well yeah. We're not blood related so..." Gwaine agreed. He had disposed of the crate untidily in the corner and started loading cans into the fridge.

Merlin barely had time to process what he'd just seen before Gwaine spoke again "Oh by the way, about your missing persons situation. The tall blonde that went messing a couple years back"  
"What?" Merlin asked sharply and then forced himself to get control and seem a little more nonchalant. It wasn't Arthur. It was never Arthur. "What is it?"  
"Iris found a guy fitting that very description the other day. Raving mad she says. Doesn't remember almost anything at all. Doesn't even know who his family is. Poor sod."

There were moments that brought the world to its knees, Merlin fought through the hysteria taking hold with every breath. It could be some poor mad lunatic, of course it could. But it could be Arthur. And that was worth any risk. All thoughts of Mordred fell straight from his mind. His limbs had processed the news before his body had, he wanted to be up and moving.

"Where is he?" Merlin asked, and his anticipation must have showed on his face because Gwaine replied  
"Merlin you can't be serious. It's almost eleven o'clock, you can't just go round-"  
"I'll go with him" Percival cut in. He'd heard Merlin talk of Arthur before, they both had. He must have known how much it meant to Merlin. Gwaine still seemed unsure, he was never opposed to doing stupid things himself but he was secretly very protective of his friends.  
"St.James,'" he said after a moment and then sighed at Merlin "but I'm serious, even if he is your missing friend, he doesn't remember, Merlin. He doesn't remember anything, he won't even know you."

"I'll make him remember" was Merlin's parting word before throwing on his coat and half running to the door, Percival hot on his heels.


	3. Guess who

Today was going to be a good day. The best day of all days. Arthur was back, Merlin finally had something to live for. Percival was at his heels muttering constant warnings not to get his hopes up but Merlin had given up listening. This was too important and Percival couldn't possibly understand.  
"Merlin!" He was shouting now, didn't he understand nothing was going to stop him, not now. Only this time Merlin paused, the voice calling him wasn't Percival's. Merlin found himself pulled by the wrist with surprising force to face Mordred, who was standing a few feet in front of him; out of breath having run the whole way down the street to catch up with them. "He's asking for you Miles," He panted "something about you forgetting your notebook." Percival promptly patted his pockets and cursed under his breath.  
"Damn it. Hang on a sec Merlin, I'll be right back," and he ran off back in the direction of the Albion, leaving Merlin alone with Mordred.

"Merlin" he whispered, he looked so small in the harsh lamp light, it was odd to think of him as something so terrible.  
"Get off me Mordred," Merlin countered, pulling his arm back. He'd been so unsettled he hadn't even stopped to think about what he was saying.  
"Mordred?" He was looking up at Merlin with a look of utter devastation, "but I can't be.. oh god." He shook his head, frantic and frightened as Merlin had ever seen him. "That.... it doesn't matter" he shook off whatever was haunting him "I have to warn you" he kept his voice low, his eyes darted at every shadow that moved on the street as if he expected it to attack him. "It's not him Merlin!" Merlin could already see Percival approaching in the distance, Mordred saw it too and quickly said again "it's not him. It can't be"

By the time Percival got to them Mordred had calmed down drastically, he even managed to smile at Percival as he approached, his eyes were still working madly though. "You got it then?" he asked gesturing to the book in Percival's hand.  
"Yeah. Thanks"  
"Well I'll um.." he turned back to Merlin and gave him a meaningful look "I'll see you around Merlin" was his parting remark.

Merlin remembered that encounters with Mordred had always been odd and charged with some kind of unspoken energy. This however, had been a different level of insane, he stood there for a few moments just staring after Mordred and wondering what the hell was going on. _"It's not him"_ he'd said. Merlin had a sickening feeling he knew exactly what he was talking about.  
"What just happened?" Percival asked as he hailed a cab to take them over to the hospital.  
"I have absolutely no idea"

London felt different on this night, there were less people milling around and somehow all the lights seemed bright and stark. Percival kept chattering all the way through the cab ride but Merlin wasn't really there, he watched the world fizz past. These past years Arthur had never been far from his mind but this time he might really be near by.

Percival was finally quiet when they reached the hospital, he seemed to have read the mood. A tired women looked up at them from the reception desk. She had at least three pencils stuck through her bun. "Which one of you is injured?" She asked without looking up. When they explained that neither of them were and that they might have information about their new patient, the women transferred them to younger, brighter girl with a clipboard in her hands.

In between flirting with Percival and twirling her hair around her fingers she gave away a few vague nuggets of information about her charge. He was blond, she said, tall and fairly well built. He had a kind of square jaw and blue eyes. All of this was a good sign. She also admitted that though she pitied him, she didn't really like him, he was apparently an arrogant arsehole. Which was an even better likeness. 

How many years had he waited for this moment, how many lifetimes had he lived to get back to this.  
"What's his name? Does he know?"Merlin asked. It had to be him, it had to be. People don't just forget who they are, just like that. This was destiny. This was fate.  
"Arthur" she said "he says it's Arthur"  
Everything was different after she said his name. He wasn't a ghost anymore. He laughed at Mordred's words echoing in his head.  
"It isn't him" he'd said. Well he was wrong.  
Arthur was alive. He was here and nothing else mattered.


	4. Symptoms and the cure

They were let in to see Arthur almost straight away. Apparently he had trouble sleeping and they were just glad to find someone who knew him. When Merlin had first seen Morgana again, he'd recognized her straight away. She was beaten, bruised and bloody and she'd cut off all her hair, but he still knew there was no doubt it was her. It was the same with all of his friends, no matter how different they looked, he could see them underneath all the facade. When he first looked at Arthur, he almost turned and walked straight out. For just a fraction of a moment, he had no idea who he was looking at. Arthur was covered in cuts and bruises, one notable scar took over the entire left side of his face. He was quite clearly himself in all other respects, his hair was the exact same golden hue, when he smiled it was the same kind of lazy grin. There was something behind his eyes, though, blue and deep as they were, that was totally unfamiliar to Merlin. Something that frightened him to look at.

Merlin almost couldn't take it, he turned away and refused to look at his old friend, fighting back tears. He didn't want this to be the first way Arthur saw him again. He turned to leave, shaking his head at Percival to signal that he couldn't do this. He would have left. If Arthur hadn't called him back.  
"I know your face" he almost shouted, sounding shocked by his own voice. He pushed himself up on his bed and repeated the phrase with an almost giddy look on his face "I know your face. Don't I?"  
Merlin found that he'd forgotten how to breath. Arthur did remember him, he turned back around, paying no mind to the tears now.  
"I know yours" he whispered back, properly sweeping his eyes over Arthur for the first time. "I'm Merlin. I'm... glad I found you." Arthur pushed himself up to look at Merlin, studying him for something familiar, something that reminded him of his life.  
"This _is_ him then?" Percival asked from behind him, he'd been chatting with the nurse until moments ago.  
"Merlin" Arthur was repeating the name under his breath, apparently testing out on his lips. The way he said it was so unfamiliar. Irreverent almost.   
"This is him" Merlin agreed, wiping a tear from cheek.

The people at the hospital seemed keen to get rid of Arthur. Apparently there wasn't much physically wrong with him apart from the scars. They asked Merlin if he knew where Arthur's family was.  
"He doesn't really have any. He has a half sister but she... she died a while ago." Merlin told them "you can release him to me though, I have a medical degree"  
"You have a degree in medical history Merlin" Percival clarified under his breath.   
It took them some time to buy into the idea, they were only strictly allowed to hand Arthur over to family but since he had none, Merlin was as close as they were going to get. He signed a few contracts, made a few promises to bring him in and report on his progress now and then and Arthur was discharged. Arthur was discharged into his custody.

If Arthur remembered anything more of their relationship or his past life in the first few days they lived together he didn't say so. Merlin lived in a small, fairly modern apartment in a high rise just outside of London. It only had one real actual bedroom, but he had a bleak little spare room with a sofa bed. Merlin immediately volunteered to take that room, on the grounds that Arthur was still unwell and needed his sleep. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Arthur agreed.  
"You take good care of me" he said quietly one night, after Merlin had spent hours teaching him to use the tv. "I remember that's your way" he often did things like this. He couldn't separate the significant form the insignificant in his clouded mind, so he just voiced random thoughts at the strangest moments. This one caught Merlin off guard, Merlin felt himself take a sharp intake of breath and cursed as he dropped the glass he had been holding. Arthur turned to him, crystal eyes all innocent.  
"Sorry. Did I say something that upset you?" Merlin shook his head but he couldn't bring himself to explain his feelings to Arthur, he was almost sure he wouldn't understand.

He found out later that Arthur didn't seem to recognize Percival or Gwaine. Even when Mordred had been dragged along to one of their visits, Arthur had done little more than narrow his eyes at the young man. Which wasn't entirely surprising, given that Mordred was in a constant state of unbridled frenzy whenever Arthur or Merlin were around. Occasionally he would say very vague things like "My father was a tough man wasn't he?" Or "I remember a forest. Isn't that odd? There aren't a lot of forests in London." Once he even said "there was a women. She was beautiful. Dark hair and dark eyes" which Merlin supposed meant he was thinking of Gwen. Sometimes he would ask Merlin questions like "where was I born?" Or "what did I do for a living?" All of which Merlin would reply to with some lie or other. The worst one he ever asked was "What were we? I mean to each other?"  
Merlin hesitated just a moment too long and answered "we were friends. Good friends... at least I hope we were" that seemed to satisfy Arthur somewhat and he went back to being thoroughly confused by an episode of Jeremy Kyle (maybe it wasn't a good idea to start with that depiction of modern life.)

Maybe it was stupid but Merlin had expected everything to go back to normal once Arthur turned up. He expected them to be just like they always were. They weren't of course and Merlin was beginning to understand that there was more than one reason for that. Sometimes this new Arthur frightened him. He would sometimes trail off in the middle of sentences and look at Merlin with such unguarded gratitude and affection that it made everything else in the room pause to watch. Other times he would sit in front of Merlin, place his hands on either of his cheeks and just look at him for hours. Merlin knew that he was just trying to remember his life of course but, it felt strange all the same. He'd known Arthur's touch before, it wasn't like he'd never knocked Merlin over the head for doing something wrong or punched him on the shoulder in friendly banter. This was different, it was gentler somehow- more intimate. Merlin found himself longing those fleeting touches in his long days at work, he found he had something to look forward to again- coming home to Arthur.


End file.
